Giving Up
by RosieAnnieUSA
Summary: Sometimes you have to lose it all to gain a future. Originally written for a challenge, and expanded.
1. Chapter 1

Heyes pushed the creaking door open. In the dim moonlight from the window, he could just barely see an oil lamp. Curry waited quietly in the hall while Heyes struck a match to the wick, and a feeble light illuminated the shabby hotel room. Curry squeezed past Heyes, dropping his saddlebags onto the floor. He sat on the nearest bed, gingerly testing the mattress. Satisfied, he lay down across the bed, with his feet on the floor.

Heyes adjusted the lamp to burn brighter. In the dresser mirror, he saw Curry collapse onto the bed. Heyes put his own saddlebags on the dresser and took off his hat, carefully hanging it on a peg.

"You planning to sleep that way?" Heyes asked.

"What way?" Curry answered, eyes closed.

"With your coat and hat on. Wearing that hogleg."

"Maybe."

There was a pitcher and bowl on the dresser. Heyes lifted the pitcher carefully and was pleasantly surprised to see that it was full. He poured water into the bowl and splashed some on his face. Running wet fingers through his dirty hair, he looked at himself in the mirror and saw a three-day stubble of dark beard, deep circles under the eyes, and pale skin. His eyes shifted to Curry's reflection. Curry looked worse than he did. Heyes took a towel from the rack and, wiping his face, went to stand next to his friend.

"How're you doing, Kid?"

"Wonderful." Heyes put the towel on the nightstand, got down on one knee, and pulled Curry's boots off. Curry neither resisted nor helped.

"Good to hear, Kid. I was afraid that little tumble you took might've bruised you up some."

"I've had better days."

Heyes got up. His knees creaked and hurt.

"Why don't you take off your coat and hat and stay for a while?" Curry slowly sat up, grunting. Giving his hat to Heyes, he unbuttoned his sheepskin jacket, and Heyes helped him shrug out of it. Heyes knew better than to help with Curry's gunbelt; he waited, holding Curry's coat and hat, while Curry unbuckled the gunbelt and hung it on the brass headboard, within easy reach.

Curry sat slumped on the edge of the bed, head hanging, elbows on knees and hands clasped, while Heyes hung his coat and hat in the wardrobe. The clothes put away, Heyes went back to check on his exhausted partner.

"You hungry?"

"No," Curry said. He looked up at Heyes' concerned face and forced a small smile. "Don't look like that, Heyes. I reckon I'm more tired than hungry."

"How about I go down to the dining room and bring us back a couple sandwiches? That sound good?"

Curry tried to get up, but Heyes pushed him back down with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"You need me to watch your back, Heyes. There's no telling if any of that posse trailed us here."

"Not a chance, Kid. They're halfway to Mexico by now. Besides, it ain't likely I'll see anyone who knows me, especially since the restaurant's just about to close."

Kid looked at Heyes' drawn face. Heyes looked as bad as he felt. He looked at the pillow. He looked again at Heyes.

"You just rest for a bit, Kid. I'll be back in no time."

Kid looked at the pillow again. He felt like it was calling his name.

"Okay, Heyes. Just stay out of trouble."

"I'll be meek as a church mouse. Promise." He released Curry's shoulder, and Curry lay on his side and closed his eyes.

Heyes was almost out of the room when Curry spoke up.

"Heyes."

"Yeah?"

"No onions on mine."

Despite his worry, Heyes smiled at his partner. "Got it."

No customers were in the dining room when Heyes arrived. He glanced at a large wall clock – it was 9:02, and the restaurant closed at nine. A short balding waiter was picking up salt shakers from the tables. Heyes cleared his throat. The man turned around, frowning.

"Dining room's closed, mister."

Heyes pointed to the clock. "Only for two minutes. Can't I get something to take back to my room?"

The little man straightened up, surprised. "You're a guest here?" This skinny cowboy dressed in raggedy clothes didn't look like he had ten cents to his name.

"Yes, sir, me and my partner just checked in. We sure could use some food."

"Well. . . " the waiter hesitated, torn between his desire to go home and the boss's orders to take good care of guests. "If the dining room supervisor says it's alright. Kitchen's supposed to be closed."

"That'd be real kind of you. Anything you got would be fine, as long as it's got no onions. " Frowning again, the man went into the kitchen. Heyes waited, looking around at the comfortable dining room chairs, all arranged neatly around the tables. If he sat down, he might fall asleep right then and there. Better to stand, even though he felt so unsteady.

The wall clock ticked loudly. Five minutes passed. Heyes was trying to decide if he should go looking for the waiter when he heard clicking footsteps behind the kitchen door. He put on his best smile, but it faded as soon as the door opened. She was the last person he expected to see. She must have been as surprised as he was, because she stopped in mid-step and almost dropped the tray she carried.

"Hello, Louise. Fancy meeting you here." He pointed at the tray. "Is that for me?"

She looked quickly around the room. They were alone.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered loudly.

"I'm here for dinner."

"That's not what I meant! Why are you in Yuma? Did you come here looking for me?"

He ran one hand through his long hair. "No, Louise. Why we're here is a long story, but we're not here to find you. Seeing you is just a happy coincidence."

She almost threw the tray at him. "Here's some cold chicken with slaw and bread. Take it and go."

"Don't you want to know what room to bill it to?"

"No," she hissed. "Just go."

"Why Miss Carson," he said. "What kind of greeting is this? Especially after all we've been through."

She opened her mouth, ready to kick him out, when, all of a sudden, her anger evaporated. He was smiling, trying to work his charm on her. The deep dimples she remembered were still there, but his big brown eyes were dull. He'd been slender but now, he was too thin. The threadbare clothes hung loosely. He didn't smell too good, either. The last two years must have been hard on him.

"Are you alright, Mr. Smith?" The change in her tone caught him off-guard.

"I will be, once I get to eat. Thanks for this."

"Is your friend with you?"

"He's upstairs. He's resting."

"I see." They looked at each other without speaking. After a long moment, Heyes turned away.

"I ought to get back. Thaddeus gets cranky when he's hungry."

"You'd better go then. Unless you need something else right now?"

"No, Louise. Thank you. I guess you're the supervisor here?"

"Yes, I am. Almost since I arrived in Yuma."

"Yeah, well. . . that's good, Louise, real good. I guess I'll be seeing you again, since we're staying here."

"Yes, you probably will. And I'm sorry I was so sharp with you earlier. When I saw you, I thought. . . well, I thought you were here about what happened in Touchstone, with. . . with everything."

"Not at all, Miss Carson. That's all forgotten. Good night."

"Good night." Louise moved to hold the door open for Heyes, who was balancing the heavy tray. He smiled his thanks. Halfway up the stairs, he paused and looked back. She was standing at the door, watching him.

Heyes kicked the door of his hotel room. "Hey Thaddeus, can you open up? My hands are full." There was no answer. Frowning, Heyes put the tray on the floor and opened the door cautiously. Curry was laying on his side, snoring loudly. Heyes picked the tray up and put it on the dresser, closing the door behind him and locking it. Curry opened one eye and looked at his partner blearily.

"Everything okay?"

"Sure thing, Kid. You want to eat? Got some chicken, courtesy of the lovely Louise Carson."

Something about the name woke Curry up a little. "Who?"

"Louise Carson, remember her? From Touchstone, Arizona? She's the waitress who was fooling around with that Ken Blake, who murdered Jenny's boy Billy and blamed us for robbing own bank?"

"Oh." Ancient history wasn't interesting to Curry at that moment.

"She recognized me, too."

Curry's head snapped up. "She recognized you? Any problem?"

Heyes cursed his big mouth. He should have known better than to mention Louise now. Anybody who recognized either one of them was a potential threat, and Curry, even bruised and tired as he was, would react strongly.

"No, no," Heyes reassured his friend. "She asked how you were, and she gave me food. No problem at all."

"Oh." Curry punched his pillow and settled down again. "That's alright then."

"You want some of this chicken, Kid?"

"Maybe later," Curry mumbled into the pillow.

Heyes sat in the armchair. He was still hungry, but he felt too tired to eat, or move. Every inch of his body ached. He didn't have enough energy to do anything, so he sat and watched Curry sleep. Eventually, he closed his eyes. His mind was racing, but it wasn't the events of the last week keeping him awake. Instead, Louise Carson occupied his mind. Her face was the last thing in his mind's eye when he slipped off into a light sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

The next few days passed quietly. Heyes spent half that first night in the chair, finally crawling into bed in the small hours. He and Curry slept past noon and gratefully ate the cold chicken Louise provided. Both men bathed, sent their dirty clothes to be laundered, and went back to bed. Neither felt well enough to go out, although each man made halfhearted attempts to get out for the other's benefit. Room service regularly brought meals up, much to Heyes' surprise and concern. Their funds, as always, were limited and couldn't cover such luxuries as fine meals. The next afternoon Heyes, feeling almost normal again, went to the front desk to see what the meals were costing him and was stunned to find the hotel had no record of any charges beyond the cost of the room.

On the third day, clean, shaved, and wearing his last good shirt, Heyes waited on the hotel's front porch for Louise to arrive for work. He saw her walking down the wooden sidewalk, wearing a sensible shirtdress, her long brown hair braided and worn like a crown on her head. He stood up to greet her when she reached the steps.

"Good morning, Miss Carson. You're looking well, especially for such a hot day."

"Good morning, Mr. Smith, and thank you. Yuma is always hot. You get used to it after awhile." Standing fully five feet apart, neither could think of another thing to say. Louise looked at him closely.

"You look like you're feeling better, Mr. Smith."

"If I do, it's because I've been able to clean up and eat well. I believe I have you to thank for that."

She stepped closer to him so she could speak quietly. "I do have some discretion as a manager to take care of preferred guests, Mr. Smith. Even so, let's keep this between us, shall we?"

"I never look a gift horse in the mouth, Miss Carson." She made a face, and Heyes realized what he hadn't exactly been complimentary. "Not that I think of you as a horse, I mean."

"It's alright, Mr. Smith. I know what you mean. I think." They looked at each other again for a long moment, until both turned away, suddenly shy.

"How is your friend doing, Mr. Smith?"

"Feeling better. He got pretty banged up when he fell off his horse. His back's been real sore, but he's finally up and moving around a little bit."

"Fell off his horse?" she asked, amused. "How did he manage to do that?"

"It ain't hard to do when there's eight or ten someones chasing you."

She sobered instantly. "Sorry. I did hear something about that."

He felt the old fear stiffen his body. Always cautious, he looked around briefly for eavesdroppers before he leaned in closer to her to speak quietly.

"What exactly did you hear?"

"They're still following the outlaws' trail, riding hell bent for leather into Mexico."

"Huh," he said, trying and failing to hide his relief with a feeble joke. "Hope they speak good Spanish. The Mexicans don't like American posses crossing the border."

"No," she said. "I've heard that, too." She saw he was still upset. "What will you do?"

He pushed his hat higher on his head and wiped his sweating face with one hand. "Depends on how my friend's feeling. He was hurt worse than he admits. I'd like to stay another day or two, if we can."

"Let me know if I can do anything to help."

"Louise, you've done a lot already. More than I could have asked for. Maybe you'd do one more thing for me?"

"If I can."

"Let me buy you dinner tonight? Someplace nice? If you're free, of course. I know you got a job to do."

She hesitated. "Can you afford that?"

He gave her a bitter little smile. "I wouldn't offer otherwise."

She rested a soft hand on his arm. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"You and me got a history of saying things to each other we shouldn't. Maybe we can start over again?"

"Yes, Mr. Smith. Let's do that. I can meet you here at, oh, 7:00pm? Today's actually my day off. I just came by to do a little paperwork."

"See you then, Miss Carson." She smiled at him one more time and went inside. Heyes felt unreasonably good. Must be the prospect of spending time with a beautiful woman who didn't want anything from him, he thought. Especially a woman who knew who he was and didn't seem anxious to collect the reward. This was going to be fun.


	3. Chapter 3

"You picked a nice place, Louise," Heyes said. "A private table where we can visit without anyone overhearing us, good food, lots of good wine. And, most of all, charming company. This is the nearest thing to heaven I can imagine."

"Your imagination is limited then," she said. "Still, it is a nice place. The owner thinks of himself as a chef, not just a cook. He takes a lot of pride in his business."

"Do you know him well?" he asked.

She nodded. "Because of my job, I know everyone in the food service business in Yuma. He's a good friend."

"Oh?" Heyes' voice rose. "How good a friend?" She stared at him.

"I thought we decided to start anew, Joshua." It was hard to tell in the dim light, but he seemed to be blushing.

"We did, Louise. I'm sorry. Sometimes stupid things come out of my mouth. I can't seem to stop them. You're the last person I want to hurt, especially after all you've done for us."

He looked so earnest, she wanted to hug him. Instead, she changed the subject.

"I thought Mr. Jones might be joining us tonight."

"No, he's still feeling pretty low. He didn't think he'd be good company. He's just staying in the room tonight all alone."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said. "When I knew him before, in Arizona, he didn't seem like the type of person who liked to sit around a hotel room by himself. He seemed to enjoy being out in company."

"He did, then," Heyes said. "Not so much anymore. He keeps to himself more and more these days."

"Time changes all of us, doesn't it?" she said, thoughtfully.

"Guess so," Heyes said. He wasn't anxious to pursue this particular subject, but it seemed she was.

"Speaking of changes," Louise said, "the last time I saw you, you mentioned that you and your friend were trying to change your lives. How is that going?"

He reached for the wine glass. It was empty. Louise obligingly filled it for him, and he took a long swallow. The wine was going down real easy. "We changed, alright. We changed from eating regular and sleeping in beds and getting medical care to sleeping on the ground, going hungry – " he tipped his glass at Louise – "except when some generous lady takes pity on us, and bandaging each other up, because the local doctor's been warned to look out for a pair of broken-down old outlaws. We made a promise to a friend and to each other, we'd live honest lives, no matter what. We'd earn a living and make money by earning it, instead of stealing someone else's." He paused while a waiter passed by, pushing a noisy dessert cart. When they were alone again, he was quiet. Finally, Louise prompted him.

"And are you finding work"

"Oh sure," he said. "Sure. We take the dirty, dangerous jobs no one else will take, and only sometimes we get paid for them. And when we don't get paid, there's nothing we can do about it, because we sure as hell can't complain to the sheriff. Strangers cheat us, and friends blackmail us. Yeah, we changed. For all the good it did us." This time, Louise did reach across to comfort him. He gripped her small hand tightly.

"Sometimes, I have to wonder, is this what we deserve for everything we did before? I mean, did we earn this life, because of all the bad things we did, stealing the life savings of people like you, Louise? The way things are now, we got no more control over our own lives than a tumbleweed does blowing around Yuma. We're nothing. We're lower than dirt. Sometimes I feel like just giving up, you know?" Louise's eyes were sympathetic, and she was listening closely. Maybe that's why he was talking so much. That, and all the wine he'd had.

"You know what, Louise? Lately I been thinking, maybe we should just go back to doing what we know how to do. We been going straight now for years, and we're still wanted. We were promised we'd get a clean slate, be able to start all over again as honest men, if we stopped robbing. Neither one of us believe that's going to happen now. So why bother? We're probably going to end up dead or in prison anyway. Might as well go out on a high. At least my belly'd be full, and I'd be wearing decent clothes."

"What does your partner say about all this?" she asked.

"Not much. Oh, I know he's still hurting some, but that ain't it. He's quiet. Doesn't talk much. Doesn't want to do anything but sit in the room. That's not like him at all. He's given up. And there don't seem to be anything I can say or do to make him feel better."

"I'm so sorry, Joshua. I wish I could help you." He noticed tears welling up in her eyes, and he kicked himself mentally. Why was he telling her his life story? She was just a casual acquaintance. He hadn't spent more than six hours of his life in her company. Now he was spilling his guts to her. He pulled his hand free and sat up straight.

"I'm sorry, too, Louise. I shouldn't be dumping on you. You've been more generous to me and my partner than we deserve. It's sure a lot more than I expect from anybody these days. Forget about me. What about you? I remember you were coming out here to live with your sister. You were hoping to find somebody nice, maybe get married. How's that working out?"

"It's not, Joshua." He looked so surprised, she laughed out loud. "What, you never met an old maid before?"

"Not one as beautiful as you, Louise. There must be something wrong with the men in Yuma, if they're passing you by."

"Oh, they're not passing me by, Joshua. Just the unmarried ones." His eyes widened again with surprise. "I've had more illicit offers from married men than I can count. I don't accept any of them. Kenneth Blake taught me that lesson, and I'll never forget it." Her mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "I've changed my life, too, you see."

"What about your sister? Aren't you living with her?"

She shook her head. "No. Oh, I did, at first. It didn't work out. Her husband was one of those married men who made an illicit offer." Heyes shook his head in disbelief.

"That's terrible, Louise. What did you do?"

"I moved out. I made up some lie to tell her, but she wasn't fooled. She knew something was wrong. I finally told her what happened, and she got angry. She said some terrible things to me, made all sorts of accusations. We don't see each other anymore."

Now Heyes reached across to hold Louise's hand. "I'm sorry, Louise. You deserve better."

"It's not so bad," she said, lightly. "I have a job, a place to live. I make my own way in the world. But sometimes, Joshua" – she took a deep breath – "I'll tell you the truth. I want to give up, too. I want to run away and have some excitement. The thought of spending the rest of my life in this town, doing what I'm doing . . .. I've done nothing but work, and what do I have to show for it? A room in a boarding house, and a tiny savings account. I want to travel, do exciting things, have some adventure in my life, like you've had."

"Being chased by a posse for almost a week ain't the kind of adventure anyone wants, Louise."

"I guess I could skip that part. Would you go back to – to what you did before with banks and trains?"

"No. The glory days are gone. Besides, some honesty has rubbed off on us. When we robbed banks, we were wrecking lives, lives of people like restaurant managers in hotels. We can't live like that anymore."

"What else is there?" she asked.

"We're talking about working the confidence game. We've got a lot of experience doing that. Rob the rich, and give to the poor – namely, us. Maybe go east to Florida, where we wouldn't be recognized so easily. Seems like every cowboy and sheriff west of the Mississippi knows us on sight."

"I've heard about Florida," she said. "There's a big real estate boom going on. A lot of rich northerners are buying land there, to set up winter homes. The whole social scene is moving there."

"Wherever rich easterners and their money goes, crooks follow," he said. "It's the natural order of things."

She laughed, as he'd intended. God, she was beautiful. And sweet, and kind, and she liked him, even though she knew who he was and what he'd done. He liked her, too. He didn't let himself think about just how much. He looked across at her beautiful brown eyes, and, in an instant, a plan came to him, a Hannibal Heyes plan, whole and complete, and he knew it was perfect. A look of wonder crossed his face. It changed his whole demeanor. Louise noticed.

"Joshua? What is it? What are you thinking?"

"Louise," he began, "I got me an idea."


	4. Chapter 4

The 8:10 to Tucson and points east wasn't even halfway full. Heyes and Curry, wearing new suits and carrying bulging carpetbags, easily found seats facing each other, where each man could watch the doorways and see who came and went. At the opposite end of the car, they watched a large, noisy family enter, filling several seats with children and overhead racks with luggage. That was just fine with Heyes and Curry. Those kids made such a racket, the two men could talk without any danger of being overheard.

"This is either the worst idea you've ever had, Joshua, or it's the best. I'm not sure which."

Heyes glanced at his partner. Curry wore his impassive poker face. "You're still willing to go along with it, aren't you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am." Something in Curry's voice made Heyes look at him closer. "You're definitely right about one thing. Giving up was the only thing we could do, if we wanted to have any sort of a life."

"Losing everything can be a gift, Thaddeus. There's nothing holding you back from embracing your future."

"Now who's the philosopher?" Curry asked. Heyes smiled. He was feeling good.

"The only thing I feel bad about is Lom," Curry said. "Not telling him anything, just disappearing, after all he tried to do for us."

"Yeah," Heyes agreed. "But we got to do it. He's an honest man, old Lom is. You know he'd go straight to the governor and tell him we were giving up on the amnesty. Next thing, he'd be leading the biggest posse you ever seen and he'd hunt us down. We got to disappear before he knows we're gone."

"I know," Curry said. "But still . . . "

"I know. Still." The thought of leaving their old friend in the dark was his only regret. Heyes wished it could be different, but if they were leaving amnesty behind, they had to leave Lom behind, too. It was the only way.

"There's one thing I don't mind leaving behind with Lom," Curry said.

"What?" Heyes asked, curious. He had no idea what Curry was talking about.

"Smith and Jones."

"Me neither! Lom's a good man, but he's short on imagination. We'll come up with something better."

Curry pointed out the window. "There." Heyes looked in that direction. Louise Carson was boarding the train. Something, some instinct, made her turn towards Heyes. He was clearly visible from where she stood, but she showed no reaction; she just boarded the train calmly and went into the next car. Too many people in Yuma knew her. Being seen together now could be dangerous. Heyes was pleased. She had natural talent. He knew he could teach her how to work a con in no time.

"I wasn't really talking about you and me, Joshua," Curry said.

"I know."

"Is it a good idea to bring her into this? This kind of life, I mean."

"She wants to. It's her decision after all, Thaddeus. She could have said no, and we'd still be doing what we're doing."

"Uh huh."

"If it weren't for the information she gave us, we wouldn't be sitting here in these fine clothes, with money in our pockets."

"I do appreciate that, Joshua. I got no objection to a little safe-cracking, especially when it's from somebody who can spare it. I just hope she's going to be okay with this kind of life. She didn't get brought up in it like we did."

Heyes heard criticism in Curry's voice and got a little defensive. "I thought we already discussed this. She wants this. She's tired of being poor and honest, just like we are. We'll teach her the business, and we'll all make some serious money along the way, like we used to. Only we won't throw it away like we did before."

Curry held up both hands. "Alright, alright. It'll just take some adjusting, working with a new partner. Especially one who's your long-lost sister."

"She can't be yours, not with your coloring. It'll be great, Thaddeus. I got a real good feeling about this."

Heyes was smiling. He looked confident and happy, Curry thought, just like he used to be, before they'd wasted the last few years chasing the dream of amnesty. They were finished with that, finally. It was good to see Heyes excited about the future. Truth be told, Curry was feeling pretty excited, too.

"So Florida's a peninsula, is that right?" Heyes nodded.

"Yeah. That means it's surrounded by water."

"That's great," Curry said. "That means the seafood will be really good."

Heyes laughed. His partner was acting like his old self again.

"Yeah," Heyes said. "A chance to do the kind of work we do best, without anyone like Lom watching over our shoulders. A warm climate, rich idiots, lots of good seafood, and a prettier partner than you. Things are looking up."

Both men grinned happily at each other. It had been a long time since they looked forward to the future.


End file.
